Monsters of Television

Look, he's not just rich--he knows about food.

Now that we live in a Steven Slater world, perhaps I should not be so surprised by the prominent discourse of dissatisfaction on the new series, Master Chef. Yet I am surprised.  The contestants on this show act as if their very life depends upon gaining approval to continue in the competition.  Their glaring unhappiness becomes frighteningly apparent through their tears, their begging, and, yes, their spontaneous hugging of scary Chef Ramsay from Hell’s Kitchen.  Why is America so unhappy?  Or, rather, why does Master Chef depend upon a narrative of dissatisfaction to fuel its program?  More about this after the jump.

As the show begins, we see lines of waving wannabe contestants from scenes filmed earlier, reminiscent of American Idol.  So similar to American Idol mania that I suspect this footage may have been taken from American Idol. My suspicion derives from the fact that I have never, ever, even heard of this program before promos started on Fox. Did any of you hear of auditions for this show in your town? Did you know what Master Chef was? Apparently, this is a format show, already a “hit” in over a hundred nations, as the program’s promo on Fox’s website informs us. Odd tactic, considering international programs retooled for the U.S. rarely depend upon their international notoriety for marketing (see also American Idol, Big Brother, heck, even All in the Family if you want a historic example).  Yet the point of showing the lines of people is to create American Idol-type suspense, reinforcing a sense of meaning in the title, “Master Chef.”  Instead, though, all this footage did was remind me that “Master Chef” has not yet earned a sense of mania in this country.

Let’s say we agree to take for granted that this title means something to the contestants—okay then, how does the competition develop its potential star?  The first two episodes of the program invited contestants to make a signature dish, prepping the majority of the their dishes in front of other contestants and then completing final steps in front of the judges. After the food had been completed, the judges would stand up, walk all the way to the table holding the food, taste it, look at the contestant, walk back to their chair, and then the next judge would stand and taste. This process was awkward and time-consuming. Perhaps the goal was to intensify suspense, but it mostly made me wonder why they hadn’t positioned the food closer to the judges.  It also served as another reminder that this show is trading on tropes of the reality competition without giving those tropes meaning.  I need to get to know these judges and these contestants to feel connected to their fate.  Trying to draw out the suspense here made me bored instead of anxious.

The judges took turns playing “good cop, bad cop,” with each having to make a tough call about whether to voice the second yes, granting the contestant entrance to the next round. Though I enjoyed the typical artificiality of the judges’ banter (“what do you think, Gordon?”), more interesting was their standard for appraisal. Any time the judges deemed a dish to be pretentious, through its presentation or its ingredients, they refused to put the contestant through to the next round. They seemed to be searching for something “authentic” in their contestants’ cuisine. Those attempting to make Italian food suffered most, with Judge Bastianich informing them that their dish did not qualify as “Italian,” noting that one dish was in fact an insult to Italian food.  Note: Bastianich is the son of great Italian chef, Lidia Bastianich–he may not be a chef, but he knows Italian food.  Another young woman was sent home to make a second dish more authentic to her Hispanic background because her use of a balsamic reduction was deemed overkill.

Their insistence on authenticity also may tell us something about what “Master Chef” means. These contestants are all amateurs, sometimes housewives, sometimes professionals, and even a few laborers. Yet several of the contestants seemed to view the opportunity to compete on this program as an education. “Please, I want to learn,” they would beg, desperate to move on to the next round. Honestly, this potential for education intrigues me—does Gordon Ramsay intend to teach these contestants how to advance as a chef? Then this show might become education for me as well. Neat-o.

As amateurs, though, the contestants also share a desperation to escape from their humble life to cook as a career. One housewife declared that she needed something else besides her children. A laborer voiced a desire to work without a wrench. More than one contestant declared that cooking was a passion. Their passion, when it devolved to begging, as with software engineer David Miller, approached hysteria. As if their dismissal from the program might lead them back to a fate worse than death. Are these contestants so unhappy in their lives that this program offers their one chance of escape?

Glaring dissatisfaction is not the only element of Master Chef to catch my attention. I’m also intrigued by Gordon Ramsay’s efforts to tone down his angry-chef image. For me, (note: I’m not exactly a Gordon Ramsay expert), his journey away from the darkness began with his Christmas special last year, featuring such cute Hollywood stars as Alyson Hannigan. Ramsay was pretty cute himself—so cuddly, in fact, that I half expected him to emerge in a Santa costume with toys for all the kids in the audience (um, maybe he did do that—I don’t think I made it to the end of the show. Repeat note: I’m not exactly a Gordon Ramsay expert).

On Master Chef, he seems to enjoy the best of both worlds. During the first two episodes, Ramsay and his trusty co-judges, Graham Elliot (youngest ever four-star chef in America), and Joe Bastianich (restaurateur, partner of Mario Batali) weeded out half their contestants.  Sometimes they were harsh, and sometimes the judges tried to inspire the contestants–“do you really want this?!”  In one particularly soft moment, Ramsay invited the family of a 22-year-old contestant into the decision room, warning that if her enthusiasm is spoiled by this program, it is their job to rebuild her confidence.  On this version of a Ramsay show, interestingly, it isn’t Ramsay that is the tough. Bastianich is the new great stone face—as he tastes each contestant’s food, he offers them a steely gaze that reveals no emotion. Perhaps this will get old, but so far, three eps in, his complete lack of enthusiasm for everything he tastes is kind of awesome to behold—largely due to his immunity to the puppy dog eyes of whatever contestant happens to be in front of him.

Another common refrain was a declaration that the contestants had given up a lot to be a contestants on this program. Just what did they give up? What element of the application process required some extraordinary sacrifice? The first two episodes do not reveal much of a answer to these questions. Instead, we witness sad, desperate people making pedestrian food with some vague claim that one will be become a master.  I guess that sounds pretty harsh, but I’m actually intrigued by this program.  It is fun to see how it balances reality banality with a desire to forge its own path.  Maybe there will be something worth tuning in for here.

Though the first two episodes offered mostly a strange blend of American Idol with Top Chef and Hell’s Kitchen, the third episode suggests this program may present something new. Ramsay asked the chefs to compete on specific skills, including chopping an onion and cooking the perfect egg. The former is reminiscent of Top Chef, and the latter is similar to a challenge Ramsay posed on Hell’s Kitchen this year. That said, a number of the contestants were forced to chop and slice for over an hour—an intensity of practice that likely would improve knife skills. The egg challenge taught less but did require each contestant to cook with one egg alone—seeing the variety of offerings prepared proved entertaining.

The prize here is a bunch of money and a contract to publish a cookbook–huh, now that last part is interesting. I suppose the cookbook part makes a sort of sense, from a producer’s perspective, in that the winner will create a tangible object for sale. A cookbook is something that could provide alternative revenue streams for the “Master Chef” brand. But so far I have not yet seen a challenge that is cookbook appropriate or that references the fact that the Master Chef will need skills to write a cookbook. Think of Julia Child in Julie & Julia, struggling to master each recipe–she was half chef and half scientist. Creating a cookbook requires immense time, experimentation, attention to detail, and creativity. That recipe has to be understandable for a wide spectrum of cooks, both experienced and inexperienced. A good cookbook is a rarity. Nothing in Master Chef so far has shown me that the judges take this prize seriously. But perhaps that will come.

As far as I’m concerned, the jury is still out Master Chef, but I’ll likely stick around for a while, if only to see the softer side of Ramsay. And to see if Bastanich manages to crack a smile.